


Carbon Copies

by DarkAlpha67



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Human, Asshole Brothers, Awkward Stiles Stilinski, Damon Hale, Derek Wears Glasses, FBI Intern Stiles Stilinski, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hints of Theo/Liam, Hugs, Human Derek Hale, Kinda College Derek Hale, Liam is Scott and Stiles' baby brother, Long ass story, M/M, Matchmaker old ladies, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Minor Cora Hale/Isaac Lahey, Minor Melissa McCall/Sheriff Stilinski, No Plot/Plotless, Pet Names, Sleepy Cuddles, Sweet Derek, Twins, inaccurate information, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 20:04:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13174230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAlpha67/pseuds/DarkAlpha67
Summary: Stiles met Derek. It was love at first sigh and all that mushy shit. They were great but there was one constant problem; Stiles knew nothing about Derek's family and Derek refused to speak about them.With Christmas drawing near, Stiles is about to find out exactly why Derek Hale hated speaking about his family back in New York and will be meeting that reason in person...*Have no idea how to summarize this thought giving anything away but give it a chance. :)





	Carbon Copies

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING! I know I got some stuff incorrect about Quantico and how things are run over there and for that I am sorry. I tried to figure it all out but I ended up getting a headache and just continued on with the story.
> 
> Please do not hate. I have had people leave comments listing almost everything wrong with my stories and while that is helpful in some cases, I really can't deal with reading any more of those.
> 
> If there are some mistakes, please bring them forward but do not send me long comments about how much you hated it. It's just cruel and you are free to not read the story if you don't like it.
> 
> I do not mean to be rude but people can be very mean and while some can handle criticism not everyone is the same and in the end you are degrading something someone else worked really hard on and a lot of the time, it discourages them to a point where they stop writing all together and that is not right. 
> 
> Also, this story is plotless. I had an idea in mind but my brain got away with me and this pointless story came about.
> 
> SPREAD LOVE AND NOT HATE. LOVE Y'ALL <3 <3

The day Stiles met Derek Hale he was hypnotized.

He remembered freezing, his feet cementing itself on the spot, his eyes unable to move much less blink away from the man sitting a few desks away in the furthest corner of the local Library. With his head bowed down over a thick book, face hidden, giving him a glimpse of his side profile.

As if needing to see more, Stiles inched a little to the side. His eyes traced the sharp edge of a strong jawline, covered with a trimmed dark stubble, the downward slope of his nose and the blocked frames of black glasses perched on it.

Stiles knew, in the back of his mind, that he must look like an idiot. Standing in the middle of the library, gawking at a stranger but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t look away. Something drew him in.

Maybe it was the relaxed away those Henley clad broad shoulders seemed to fill his entire frame. Maybe it was the way this strange man was mouthing along to the words he was reading. Maybe it was the half empty bottle of water Stiles spotted by his feet…

Then, as though he felt Stiles’ eyes on him, the man looked up and over, gaze falling directly on him. Even from where he stood, Stiles met those pale green eyes… no, they were grey, no wait…

Thick eyebrows slowly lifted and soon an awkward wave followed, breaking the spell Stiles had unknowingly fallen into.

His jaw snapped up, mouth smacking together. His heart starting hammering against his chest, panic and embarrassment short circuiting his racing thoughts. Stiles spun around, wanting to get away, to disappear. He was halfway toward the door when he realized he was meant to be picking up a book he’d asked for. His body turned before his brain would process its movement and he found himself in front of the counter, staring wide eyes at a very amused elderly lady.

Her soft wrinkled face scrunched up as she pressed her thin red lips together to hide her growing smile.

His cheeks heated, the blush rushing down the side of his neck, burning him up.

The moment the book was paid for and clutched in his shaky hand, he ducked his head and hurried back out, chastising himself for being just a dork.

“God, really, Stiles?” He groaned to himself.

Well, at least the odds of him seeing the man again was not likely.

 

*

 

He had been wrong. And oh so wrong.

The man was there, every single time. Stiles would walk in and there he’d be, sitting at the exact same table. Sometime he’d have his glasses covered face shoved into a book, other times he’d be sitting with a laptop, typing away with seemingly unblinking eyes and on the rare occasion he’d have both the laptop and a book before him, going back and forth like a well-oiled machine.

Upon Stiles’ third one-sided encounter with this alluring stranger, he was forced to concede that the man was most likely a regular and he couldn’t always take his books back to Quantico. He needed the silence, because Jason, his roommate, sure as hell never gave him any chance to study.

All Jason Ames cared about was the physical side of their training, bragging on and on about his all-powerful FBI daddy (Who was retired, mind you) and the babes he would be scoring once he had his badge and gun.

Stiles loved kicking his ass during their training sessions. Anything to knock the misogynistic jackass down a peg.

Stiles had chosen a seat furthest from the Library Man as possible. After the first and last encounter, he wanted nothing more than to be covered by Harry’s invisibility cloak, hidden away from all eyes… and free to look around as much as he wanted. Stiles chose to sit with his back toward the busy stranger and forced himself to focus on his work, studying old crimes to get more information than of that which Quantico provided.

He was sure the man had forgotten about him. It’s not like Stiles was the first person to gawk at him. He must have rolled his eyes at Stiles, laughing later that day with his buddy’s about the kid who walked around like headless chicken when he was caught staring.

That was until exactly two weeks after that little incident when he was awoken by a soft shove against his forehead. He was having such an awesome dream, where he and Scott were crime fighting partner, like Martin Lawrence and Will Smith, on the brink of catching that drug dealing Italian mobster when again, he felt something shove at his head.

Stiles smacked it away, annoyed. “Fuck off, Scott.” He grumbled under his breath.

“Uh, the library is going be closing in a few.” A deep voice that was definitely not Scott said.

It’s gruff tone send a chill down his spine and Stiles shot up. The dawning light of the table lamp appeared like a tiny flame before his blurry eyes. Stiles blinked once and twice. His heart did a weird fluttering thing and slowly, he turned to the right.

Pale, green-grey-whatever the fuck color that was- eyes stared down at him. Dimples that appeared through the five o’clock shadow were brought to life by the humorous grin playing on Mr. Impossible’s face.

“Mr. Impossible?” The man asked, a small frown softening his features.

Stiles opened his mouth, but stopped, unsure of what his exhausted mind had allowed him to say while he had stared dumbly up at the man. There was a white blur on the corner of his left eye and Stiles frowned, looking over to see what it was.

There was a deep chuckle and a hand appeared in his peripheral. A painful sting ignited on his cheek as the man slowly peeled off a piece of paper that had no doubt stuck to his skin thanks to the drool he can safely say was crusting on the edge of his lips.

Lifting a hand, Stiles wiped the corner of his mouth.

The man gently placed the paper down among Stiles’ scattered pile. Stiles frowned down, wondering how long he’d been asleep. He knew those two all-nighter’s would catch up to him, he just didn’t think it’s be in the library where _he_ was.

Stiles opened his mouth, turning back to the man when a sweet voice spoke up. “Sweetheart, you need leave now. I’m sorry.”

Both Stiles and the man turned around to see Betty, the librarian, standing behind the counter. Her bag packed and ready to go as she stood off to the side, patiently waiting.

“Oh shit! Sorry, Betty!” Stiles exclaimed. He jerked up and out of his seat. Suddenly, he felt the floor beneath him shift, tilting to the side, and he swayed along with it, exhaustion urging to just fall and not bother standing up.

“Whoa!” Hands grasped him, one on his arm and the other on his waist. “Whoa, whoa, you okay?”

Stiles blinked, trying to chase away the dizziness, causing his brain to feel as though it was floating on thin air. He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut in one final attempt to center everything around before opening them again and turning.

A spicy scent reached his nose and his eyes flickered up, meeting concerned luminous orbs.

“Hey.” Stiles sighed out.

An adorable grin formed on soft pink lips. “Hi.”

Nope, that’s just too much. The glasses. The beard. The eyes. NOPE! No one had the right to look like this. This should be fucking illegal. He couldn’t think clearly. He needed to think---

“I need Stiles.” He found himself saying.

The man opened his mouth.

“No, shit. No, I don’t need… me. I am me.” Stiles blinked. That didn’t make sense. No. He tried again, slowly wording the words. “I, need, coffee. Yeah, coffee. I need that.”

A sweet chuckle reached his ears and Stiles looked over the man’s shoulder to see Betty laughing and shaking her head.

With her bag in hand, she made her way over to him, her motherly presence calming him the closer she got. Silently, she moved and gathered up his papers. Stiles leaned over to help her but found himself pitching forward, stopped only by the tightening of the hands on his arm and waists… Hands that have not left him at all.

Betty sighed and turned to the man behind him. “Derek, sweetheart, why don’t you buy Stiles here a cup of coffee and make sure he gets home in one piece, please.”

Derek…

Stiles turned around to the man behind him. He traced his jawline lazily, running his eyes over the sculpted features, thinking that yes, Mr. Impossible looked like a Derek. Derek suited him.

“Of course, Betty.” Derek replied, his deep voice doing things to Stiles’ stomach.

Betty’s kind blue eyes squinted in appreciation before she turned to Stiles. Her warm, soft hand cupped his cheek. “You’re in safe hands, all right? Derek is gonna get you some coffee to waken you up and then make sure you get home. I want to see you Monday morning, well rested and on your feet.”

Stiles nodded tiredly. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll take care of him, Betty.” Derek promised her.

 

*

 

Stiles should get down on his knees and thank Betty Forbes from the bottom of his ever grateful heart. He should maybe bring her another one of those yummy cupcakes she loved so much from Daniel’s Bakery because she was a God sent.

An Angel, come down from Heaven to bless his life with the man currently fast asleep, sprawled out on his stomach, face inches away from Stiles’.

Stiles, unable to help himself, ran his eyes over Derek’s soft features. With the sun slowly rising, breathing light into his darkened room, its rays shone down on the bare, flawless back where the dark inked tattoo of a Triskelion rested… Biting down on his lip, Stiles suppressed the urge to sigh in content.

A month had passed since that blurry night at the library. After Derek had done as promised and lead him to the nearest coffee place which was open 24 hours, he had sat silently with him as Stiles sipped on his coffee, his drowsiness slowly fading the emptier the mug got. After two cups, Stiles was a remotely function human being and began stuttering out a barely discernible apology.

He explained he was in the FBI training program and had thought of checking out the other libraries on his weekends, just to see if the FBI library did indeed have everything and had somehow, somewhere along the lines, messed up his time schedule and worked himself too hard. It also didn’t help that he was two seconds away of strangling his roommate, so he had to get out of that room.

Derek, every the kind and understanding man (Although, Stiles didn’t know that at the time) had listened to him and in the end, as Stiles made his way back to the base, he had a new cell number programmed into his cell.

A deep, sleepy groan pulled him to this sweet paradise he now called his reality, and Stiles felt his lips tug up into a smile as Derek’s scrunched his nose, displeased at having woken up before his eyelids fluttered, slowly blinking open.

Green-grey eyes with flecks of gold met his and a blinding smile followed, show casting those adorable bunny teeth. “Hi.” Derek sighed sleepily.

Stiles leaned back, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “You need to brush your teeth.”

Closing his eyes, Derek let out a lazy chuckle, his chest rumbling. Moaning, the other man shuffled over, dragging his body across and over Stiles, draping his heavy weight on him, pillowing his head against Stiles’ chest.

Stiles felt his arm slither up and over his waist, hand coming to a rest right over his heart. A heated breath fanned over his skin, and Stiles’ own arms moved to embrace the sleepy man, hugging him closer.

He dropped a kiss on the top of the mob of raven hair, tangling his fingers through those thick strands. “Go back to sleep, love.” He whispered sweetly.

Derek hummed and soon his breathing evened out once again. Stiles closed his own eyes, enjoying the familiar weight of Derek on him, the soft sweet brushes of air being expelled in tiny puffs. He swore he could actually feel Derek’s heart beating against his side, a steady thudding beat.

Tomorrow would be Christmas and thanks to the FBI’s gracious hearts, Stiles was able to make plans with Hayley and Lincoln, the only two people Stiles seemed to be getting along with at this program, who were heading to California tomorrow too.

He pre-booked a ticket and would be in Beacon Hills this time tomorrow… Him and only him.

He absentmindedly scraped his bunt nails over Derek’s sculpt.

Derek Hale, the man Stiles had been seeing for close to a month and knew almost nothing about.

The first date they went on, which was through Skype, mind you, was filled with light chatter and jokes. They had a lot in common it had appeared. Derek shared Stiles’ love for history, which was why he had decided to study to become an Architect. He explained to Stiles that he’d lost a lot of his childhood belongs in a fire at the age of 13 and since then, he had wanted to design buildings and monolithic structures that could stand the test of time, that wouldn’t be brought down by human errors.

Stiles had been eager for more information on this mysterious, kind hearted and funny man. He wanted to know about Derek’s childhood, about his family and where he grew up. He could see it bothering Derek a bit, talking about his family and the past and at first he’d suspected it wasn’t just childhood belongs that had been taken by that fire but Derek had assured him that none had come to harm. His family was rich, so they didn’t have any financial struggles.

All Stiles knew about Derek was that he was one of four kids. He had an older sister by 5 years and a younger brother and sister. The youngest being 4 years his junior.

He had wanted to know more and on their third date, this time at the back of the Library after hours, (Thanks, Betty), Derek, whom had been quiet and slightly withdrawn most of the night, had cleared his throat and asked, “Listen… I know this is ridiculous to ask but can we not talk about my family?”

Stiles, having had been on the brink of asking about Laura, Derek’s older sister, who owned a Law firm in New York, slammed his mouth shut.

Derek’s pleading green eyes met his. His jaw flexed and Stiles knew he was trying to work through the right words. “I—I don’t really get along with them and, sometimes talking about them is hard and I don’t want to spend our nights together talking about something that’s gonna put me in a foul mood. Do—Is that okay?”

He’d seen the worry in Derek’s eyes that night and nodded before even thinking it through, needing for that look to vanish, wanting those happy eyes back.

Later that night, he found himself thinking everything through, _thoroughly_. It went against every fiber of his being, not asking questions, not finding the answers to what ails him. He wanted to know what Derek was hiding, he wanted to know why he wanted nothing to do with his family but after a restless night of pondering and what if’s, he’s shoved everything _he wanted_ to know aside.

And since then, he hadn’t asked questions more than once. If Derek wanted to tell him, Stiles knew that when the time came he would.

Two hours later, Stiles was up and about, making himself and Derek a cup of coffee, freshly showered and in the last of his clean clothes that he kept at Derek’s. He’d do his laundry at his Dad’s, and then while that was happening, he could maybe question the shit of his secretive father on when exactly he was planning on telling Stiles he was dating Melissa McCall.

Stiles found out that little deal when Scott, being the weirdo that he was, said he smelt his mom’s perfume on Stiles’ dad when he came to drop of some lunch as he’d promised Stiles he’d do.

“I’ve been suspecting it for a while now, you know.” Scott had said to him one night during their weekly Skyping sessions. “Like they’d share these smile when they thought I wasn’t look. John would bring Mom lunch…”

Just then Allison’s head had popped up, her grin wide, her beautiful features softened by her short hair bundled up into a messy bun onto of her head. “That, and I saw them kissing two weeks ago.”

Scott shot her a look and with sad puppy eyes turned to Stiles and said, “Yeah, there’s that too.”

Stiles swore to all that was Holy, that if Scott didn’t put a ring of Allie’s finger…

Strong, firm arms wrapped around him, tugging him back to a furnace-chest. Prickly hairs scraped his skin as Derek buried his face into the crook of his neck. He exhaled but said nothing. Derek was never a morning person, but Stiles was leaving soon and Derek said he wanted to be there when Stiles went on the road.

The sap. “Sucks that you’re leaving.” Derek grumbled.

Stiles snorted, placing down his steaming cup to cover Derek’s arms with his own, stroking the muscular forearms. “Gonna miss me, aint ya?” He joked.

“You know I am.”

Stiles bit down on his lips, hesitating before saying. “I know you said you couldn’t make it for Beacon Hills but… you sure you don’t want to go visit your family?”

The hard pecs pressing against his back tensed, the arms flexed and Derek’s heated face lifted up from the concave of his neck. “ _Stiles.”_

He knew that tone. Turning around in Derek’s arm, Stiles lifted his eyes to look up at his boyfriend, noticing the deep furrowing of those thick eyebrows, the firm press of his lips. However, when at first those pale eyes would be closed off, now Stiles could see the pain behind those orbs, the hesitation and fear…

Sighing softly, Stiles lifted his hands and gently cupped Derek’s face. “Family’s important, Der. You told me that.”

“Not in reference to mine. They wanted me to be something I’m not.” Derek retorted, somewhat steely. “I’m not gonna go back to them, looking for their approval. Beside… they already have the perfect son.”

Stiles winced. That was a common phrase that felt Derek’s lips whenever his family was brought up. The perfect son. The star son… Stiles knew Derek had a younger brother, Damon, but that was about it. He tried to find out more but Derek always got defensive about it, saying he’d rather not talk about Damon before quickly changing the subject to either Scott and Allison or how Stiles felt about being so close to graduation.

He swallowed around his outburst, taking in a calming breath. “Okay, you might hate me a little after this but… You think they’d hate who you are right now, but I don’t. I think you need to see them, and let them see this amazing man that you are. Let them meet the real Derek Hale and if they don’t like him, at least you tried.”

Derek’s eyes bore into his but he said nothing. Stiles’ lips tugged up into a smile and pushed himself slightly up, pressing a soft kiss on the tip of Derek’s nose, pulling a grin from the other man. Derek tilted his head to the side and Stiles leaned in eagerly.

Lips captured his and Derek’s hold tightened. Stiles pressed the entire length of his body against Derek, swiping his tongue over those lips, eager to dive into Derek’s mouth. His fingers slipped back and tangling through Derek’s back strands, fisting it to draw him closer, teeth nipping at his bottom lip. Derek groaned, his own hands running up and over Stiles’ back, pressing and gripping as he goes.

There was tiny beep and Stiles groaned, displeased. His fingers dug into the side of Derek’s face, wanting to hold on for as long as possible. Another beep followed.

Derek’s chest rumbled against his as he laughed against Stiles’ lips. “You gotta go.” He muttered, lips reaching out for a soft, breath of a kiss before pulling back completely.

Stiles frowned, his lips tingling from the kiss. His body hummed, a low strumming desire building within from the heated pit of his stomach.

There was another, almost insistent beep and Stiles cursed, turning to glare at his offending cell where it rest innocently on the kitchen counter. “I’m gonna kill Lincoln.”

Derek snorted, taking a step back and Stiles noted the way those jeans sat on him, the way the red Henley with the thumb-holes wrapped around his shoulders and arms. Damn, he was so going to miss Derek.

“How do you know it’s Lincoln?” Derek asked, reaching over to snatch up the phone, handing it to Stiles before moving to grab his cup of coffee. He rounded over and leaned back against the counter beside Stiles, the side of his body pressed against Stiles’.

“The beeping sounded like a jackass.” Stiles replied, checking his message. “And indeed it was.” He turned his cell over to show Derek’s Lincoln’s name and his “WE WAITING” messages.

Sighing, Stiles send a quick reply and turned with a grimace at Derek. “I need to go.”

The light in Derek’s eyes dimmed just a bit. “Yeah, I know.” He lifted his cup of coffee to his lips and drowned the rest all in one single gulp and Stiles mirrored the act.

They placed the cup into the sink and made their way out of Derek’s loft. Stiles picked up his duffel bag that contained all his dirty clothes on the way, the weight pulling him down further. The car ride was silent, Derek’s hand finding their way to his thigh every chance he got and Stiles’ hand waited to lace through his.

With the wind nothing more than a gentle breeze, Derek stood by silently as Lincoln and Hayley placed the last of their bags into the back of Lincoln’s ‘daddy’ car. After the grilling Linc got from Stiles and Hayley, the smug smile his friend had on his California features was well deserved.

“So,” Stiles sounded up, stepping closer to Derek.

He wrapped his arms loosely around Derek’s broad shoulders, feeling the tightness of them. He forced the frown off his faces as he took in the slight set on Derek’s lips, the minor furrow of his brows. As a whole, it would appear Derek was in his usual ‘sour’ mood but not to Stiles.

A strained grin spread across Derek’s face. “Call me when you get home.”

Stiles nodded. “Duh.” He rolled his eyes in hope that it would lighten the mood just a bit. “About this morning… If I overstepped or crossed the line about your family, I’m sorry. I was just trying to help and I hate that you—“

“Hey.” Hands squeezed the sides of his waist. “It’s fine. You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t honest with me. It’s one of the _many_ reason’s I fell for you.”

“The other being my inability to know when to shut up?”

Rolling his eyes, Derek closed the distance between them, pressing a sweet kiss to Stiles’ lips. “It goes well with my inability to function like a living human being.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “You’re perfectly---“

“So are you.” Derek cut him off.

A grin broke out across his face and he shook his head fondly. Leave it to Derek to turn an insult into a compliment. Stiles closed the small height distance between them, pulling Derek down as he does so. Hot lips met his and Stiles wasted no time to open his mouth, needing and wanting all in one breath to have Derek close to him, in every physical and emotional sense of the word.

Heated hands flirts with the edge of his shirt, promising skin on skin contact.

A loud, clearing of the throat broke the spell. Derek groaned and pulled back. Stiles opened his eyes to see his boyfriend’s dark green orbs glaring daggers behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he scoffs with amusement at Lincoln standing behind them, hands up in surrender. Hayley was chuckling behind her hand.

“My bad. It’s just, we need to go, if we’re gonna make it on time. For the plane.” Lincoln swallowed, his sky blue eyes falling on Stiles. “Right, buddy?”

Hayley snorted and bowed her head, her long honey brown hair falling over her shoulders, hiding her face.

Lincoln paled under Derek’s murderous glare. Stiles sighed softly and turned around with solemn eyes. Instantly pale green-grey eyes locked with his and a sad smile followed. Stiles’ stomach tightened in a worrying knot at the pain and anxiety behind those orbs and his mind drifted back to their previous conversation.

Stiles opened his mouth and Derek spoke over him, saying. “Call me.”

Smacking his lips together, Stiles nodded. Giving Derek one last peck, he turned and followed Linc and Hayley as they climbed into the car. He took the back seat, the soft, almost silent slamming of the door hurting more than it should. He had overstepped and pushed like he was known to do.

He knew Derek hated talking about his family. Why couldn’t he just shut the fuck up?

As they pulled out, Lincoln honked, driving them away. Stiles turned, staring out the window, waving back to Derek until he vanished from sight. The further he went, the tighter the knot grew until he felt almost car sick.

Bright hazel eyes locked with his. “You okay, Stiles?” Hayley asked.

He swallowed. “Yeah.” He lied.

 

*

 

He called Derek as promised and when he ended the call, he knew he had been right. His boyfriend sounded closed off and like he couldn’t wait to get off the phone with him; so Stiles granted him that wish, keeping it light and short. He ended the call with an ‘ _I miss you_ ’ and the sick feeling in his stomach eased just a bit at the soft ‘ _I miss you too, babe_ ’ he got back.

Christmas was an awesome affair. His day was spend with laughter and hugs and way too many kisses between family members to be considered natural. Allison and Scott brought with them Mr Argent and Liam, his recently fostered son and Scott and Stiles’ little brother in every sense of the word.

Liam was a kid who had been dealt a bad hand in the game of life. Having lost his family is a car accident and shortly after been diagnosed with IED, he was bounced from foster home to foster home, no one wanting an angry kid and Liam it appeared had accepted that. Stiles and Scott had noticed him the moment the hot headed freshman walked into school with bruised knuckles and a limp in his step, and thanks to his dad and Chris’ stubborn nature, they got the kid out of the system and into a home where he felt loved and cared about.

“Stiles! Check it!” Liam exclaimed, leaning forward lightly to tugging at a silver chain around his neck, pulling an emblem from beneath his shirt.

Liam and Scott were currently sprawled out on Stiles’ couch, with Stiles leaning back in the armchair opposite them while the parents were outside, having a cup of coffee or tea and enjoying ‘the fresh air’. Allison and Chris left an hour or so ago, claiming they needed to pop in with Kate, Chris’ sister and the new baby. Liam, having been too sick to even consider getting up, proclaimed he was spending the night with Scott and Stiles.

(Kid just wanted more eggnog)

Leaning forward, Stiles reached out, gently grabbing the golden meshed up symbol dangling from the end of the chain. The second his eyes took it in, he knew exact what it meant and stood for. The Celtic trinity knot, was beautifully shaped and woven through it in the center was a perfect circle.

“Theo got it for me.” Liam explained, baby blue’s bright and filled with love and excitement. “He says there are a lot of meaning behind it but, it’s supposed to symbolize family. And the three corners mean, mind, body and spirit.”

A small smile fitted itself onto Stiles’ lips. He brushed over the design with his thumb, knowing and hearing the meaning behind the gift.

“Theo says that family comes in all shapes and sizes, and that in the end, I can have all three if I want to.”

Nodding, Stiles gently dropped the Celtic symbol into Liam’s hands. “Sounds like a smart kid.”

A pinkish hue warmed Liam’s cheeks. Stiles looked over to his right, meeting Scott’s knowing brown eyes. Liam has of yet come to them, but both Stiles and Scott knew that if Theo Raeken was planning on sticking around, the blue eyed hothead would be knocking on their door for advice soon enough.

Scott, leaning back into couch, lazily frowned over to Stiles. “Didn’t you say something about Derek having a weird ancient symbol tattooed on his back?”

“Hmm,” Stiles hummed tiredly. “A triskelion.”

Liam nodded. “Cool.”

A melancholy feeling filled him then. “Yeah,” Stiles mumbled. “Cool.”

As night time fell, and the living room floor was left covered with ripped pieces of wrapping paper, coffee table cluttered with way too empty glasses, rims milky stained by the eggnog currently gloating Stiles up, he slowly allowed his thoughts to drift to Derek as he laid motionless in bed.

He hated that Derek was alone during this time of year. Christmas was meant to be spend with family, blood related or not, and the idea of that the man he cared about with all his heart (They haven’t uttered the big ‘L’ word) hauled up in his loft, was twisting his insides.

Unable to help himself, Stiles reached out for his cell laying on his bedside table. He pressed the middle bottom, groaning as the bright light burned his eyes, causing a sharp pain to shoot through his head. Squinting, Stiles hurriedly lowered the brightness and accessed his call log, tapping on Derek’s name.

Anxiously, he placed the phone against his ear, listening and waiting. A heavy weight fell over his chest as he listened to dull ringing on the other end.

“This is Derek. I’m sorry I can’t come---“

Stiles pulled the cell away, ending the call.

Yep… he did it. He fucking blew it.

 

*

 

Stiles groaned, his body aching from the worst and longest flight back he’d ever had. Those fucking assholes, talking louder than it was goddamn necessary, given that the dickholes were sitting right next to each other. He still felt the hour long annoyance he had to endure, lingering like a burning thorn in his side, which only heightened when he flashed back to how they had blatantly ignored him when he asked them to keep it down.

Politely, might he add! Stiles was doing them a fucking service by being polite. God knows he was close to smashing their heads together in hopes for temporary unconsciousness.

As the elevator came to a silence smooth stop on Derek’s floor, Stiles let loose a relieved sigh, body buzzing and yearning to be in Derek’s arms. He wanted to know what was wrong; if they were okay but most of all he just wanted to see Derek.

Picking up his bags with a heavy heart, Stiles stumbled out of the elevator, heading toward the only door on this floor. It calling to him, beckoning him to come closer, promising a warm bed and a peace of mind.

Setting his bags down, Stiles dug into his front jean pocket, pulling a set of keys; one for his jeep, another tiny silver one for his dad’s and a golden key for Derek’s home. A giddy feeling erupted within him, as it always did, when he slide the key into the lock and turning it.

He still couldn’t believe he had a key to Derek’s home. A key!

Turning the knob, Stiles reached for his bags and shouldered his way in, “Hey! Derek, you here?” He yelled out, shuffling backwards, pulling in his rolling bag.

There was a cluttering of plates and Stiles’ heart sunk at the silence that met his greeting. Biting his lower lip, he inhaled to build his courage and promptly turned around, his smile forming and his troubled expression fading.

Instantly, his eyes fell on Derek, shocking green-grey eyes meeting his. Stiles’ felt his smile flicker for a beat at how none responsive Derek was to him being here. Last they spoke, Derek had been sweet and semi-friendly, albeit a little distracted but Stiles chose to ignore that.

He was well versed with a distracted Derek and knew if he became too much of a bother, Derek would tell him in his own adorable way.

“What?” Stiles asked, splaying his arms out in greeting, forcing a grin. “No hug for the bae?” He joked.

As he suspected a sour expressing twisted Derek’s features at the word ‘bae’. A vague lightness settled over him at that. He hadn’t been kicked out or glared at, so all was good, so far.

“Bae?” Derek repeated, running his eyes up and down, slowly assessing Stiles. “You actually speak like that?”

Stiles visibly jerked back at the tone of voice. Gone was the warm, and the softness Stiles loved to hear whenever he spoke to Derek. His stomach flopped upside down at the lack of recognition or love in his boyfriend’s eyes. He flashed back to their last face-to-face, right there in that very kitchen. Derek had told him he was okay, and that Stiles hadn’t overstepped.

And Stiles had believed him because, knowing how too much he could be sometimes, it never seemed to actually bother Derek to a point where he became like _this_.

Frowning, Stiles noticed how different Derek looked. Gone were the black jeans and comfortable Henley’s and in its place a fancy three piece suit, from the dark navy blue slacks right up the matching waist jacket that accentuated the way in which that crisp white shirt clung to his muscular arm.

Something shifted in Stiles as he took in the change in clothes and then his eyes trailed up to the gelled back hair, those thick strands which were usually styled up were sleeked back.

“Huh,” His frown deepened when Derek lifted his eyebrows. “What’s with the change in… _everything_? You going to a funeral or something?”

Derek cocked an eyebrow. “Do I look like I’m going through grief?”

Swallowing down the uncomfortable lump in his throat and trying to hide the spike of nervousness that claimed every cell in his body, Stiles forced a smile while reaching into his jacket pocket, pulling out his phone.

Thick eyebrows burrowed and green eyes narrowed as the older man leaned back against the counter. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

Lifting up a finger, Stiles accessed his call log and tapped Derek’s name. Anxiety crawled up his body, enclosing around his chest as every horror movie he had ever seen played through his mind. Cautiously, Stiles lifted the phone to his ear, narrowing his eyes at the man before him, making sure he doesn’t move.

Pale lips part into a cocky smirk and Stiles eyes zone in on the lack of too-long front teeth.

The ringing in his ear stopped and a voice, deep and achingly warm answered. _“Hey, what’s up?_ ”

Biting back the urge to express his great relief, Stiles angled his head toward his phone. “Uh, I don’t want to alarm you or anything, but there is a dude who looks exactly like you standing in front of me, right now.”

Not-Derek snorted, shoulders jerking as he stifled a laugh. In the back of his mind, Stiles knew he must look a fucking fool but that mind was currently powerless against the part of his brain which knew every supernatural myth there was about evil clones and sadistic doppelgangers.

“ _You—_ “ Derek stuttered. “ _You’re home?_ ”

“That’s not the point, Derek!” Stiles exclaimed. “I’m two seconds away from freaking out—“

 _“Okay, okay, calm down. Listen, that’s my brother, alright. Damon. I told you about him._ ”

Stiles froze for a second, his lips mouthing ‘Damon’ before his body jolted to life. _“Told me about him?_ You told me he was your younger brother not your fucking identical twin! What the fuck, Derek! I thought he was an alien or some shit!”

“An alien, really? What are you ten?” Not-Der -- _Damon_ asked, disbelief clear on his expression… God, he looked exactly like Derek and nothing at all like Derek a blink later. “And did that schmuck really tell you I’m younger than him?”

Stiles opened his mouth but his tongue was numb. He tried to form proper human words but something must have gone wrong inside his head because he couldn’t make a single sound.

_“Look, babe, I’m gonna be home in ten minutes, okay? Just say put and… try not to kill him?”_

Stiles nodded.

There was a pause. “ _Okay. See you in a few. Bye._ ” And the call ended.

Stiles, unable to move, watched as Damon Hale took to scanning every inch of him with unimpressed eyes. The second those disapproving eyes met his, he felt himself snap out of whatever trance he had been in.

“I’m Stiles. Stilinski.” He introduced himself, trying not to wince the second those words left his mouth. Of course this guy knew who he was.

“Yeah. I got that.” Damon offered, remaining where he was; leaning against Derek’s kitchen counter, ankles lazily crossed, wearing an expression of pure boredom.

A rude retort flirted with the tip of his tongue and Stiles bit down on it, Derek’s words of advice ringing through his ears. Nodding, Stiles forced himself to calmly turn around for his bag, his body cramping as though whining about the work it was about to do.

Heaving them up, Stiles walked toward the couches and dropped them on it, not giving two shits as he watched his one bag roll right off and onto the floor.

“So,” Stiles sounded out, racking his brain for something to say that wouldn’t be offensive. “You here for a visit, or something?” He asked, adding the ‘or something’ as an afterthought.

“My mom wanted me to come back and spend time with Derek.” Damon replied. “Our wonder-twin bond is waning, apparently.”

Stiles nodded, moving toward the kitchen, his hands itching for something to do and his throat begging for water. Praying his nervousness wasn’t showing, Stiles headed for the cupboards to pull out a glass of water before bee-lining for the sink. He noticed the dirty bowl and spoon laying there as well as _his_ open box of Lucky Charms.

Taking a big gulp of water, Stiles turned around and saw Damon staring down at his phone, scrolling through it. From this angle, Stiles could tell it was his E-mail. Right, mister perfectly dressed was the star son, and judging by the fact that he was wearing a suit, he probably had some higher up, partner to a firm, kind of job.

“So, Damon,” Stiles said, trying to start a conversation, wondering how long it’s been since his phone call with Derek. “What is it you so for a living?”

Green-grey eyes met his… and yep they were green-grey. No other confusing mix of colors. “ _Big_ brother didn’t tell you?”

Stiles felt annoyance claw at him at the mocking tone Damon used when he said ‘big’.

“He said you were successful in what you do.” Stiles said, phrasing his words carefully, adding a noncommittal shrug near the end. He highly doubt it was wise to mention to Damon, Derek hardly spoke about him.

Damon narrowed his eyes. “I co-own a tech company.” He said airily.

“Awesome, what’s the name? Do you guys invent apps? Or are you an IT firm?”

“Yes and no.” The hand holding his cell lowered as he answered Stiles. “We do a little bit of everything, from coding to designing apps. Ever heard of Halestorm Inc?”

“The guys who created the Firewalls for the FBI?” Stiles asked, shocked.

Thick eyebrows raised and a glimmer of curiosity sparked in Damon’s eyes. “Yes.”

Stiles nodded. “That’s cool… You guys know how it easy it is to break that?” The words felt his mouth before he could stop himself. Every curse he could ever think of was mentally flung his way and Stiles pinched his stupid tongue between his teeth.

_Like really, Stiles? Why the shit would you say something like that?_

He watched, wide eyed, as Damon stiffened and rotated around slowly to face Stiles completely. “Excuse me?”

“I uh—I—we,” Stiles began to stutter. “I just, I know a guy who—did that. I mean, I know _of_ a guy who got through--- I don’t know him personally because I have never and I stress _never_ met him but I know, from the grape vine, of a guy who got through your walls.” Stiles felt his face burn under Damon’s intense stare. “Heard about it, from people.” He finished off lamely.

_Fucking Danny and his eagerness to be hacktivist._

A heavy air fell over them and seconds later, the front door opened. “Stiles!”

His head whipped around, his eyes eagerly falling on the tall form standing by the door. Stiles’ heart jumped, filling with overwhelming doses of love, excitement, longing and joy. He felt airily for a second and then his body collided into Derek’s.

The spicy scent that was pure Derek Hale, enclosed around him and Stiles couldn’t help but bury his face into the heated neck. Strong arms wrapped around his body, pressing against his shoulder blades and waist, pulling every inch of Stiles right up against him.

“I missed you.” A deep voice said into his ear, the warmth and softness of the tone seeping and sinking into Stiles, filling him with love and bliss.

He chuckled, unable to contain his happiness. “Me too, big guy.” He moves to grasp the back of Derek’s neck, his fingers threading through those silk strands, skin burning against skin. Hot lips touched the tinging flesh of his neck, followed by the light scrapping of his beard.

A booming voice called out. “You two are making me all tingly inside! I think I feel a vagina growing.”

The arms around him tightened and he felt Derek burrowing into his neck. “Make him disappear.”

Snorting, Stiles bit down on his bottom lip to hold back his laughter. “My magic only works in the bedroom, love.” He whispered soothingly.

A chest vibrated against his and victory coursed through him as Derek chuckled in his arms. They held on for a beat longer, before Stiles, with great reluctance, pulled away from Derek’s comfortable embrace. Looking slightly up, luminous eyes met his, glowing orbs filled with kindness and love and Stiles couldn’t help but draw him in.

Relief flooded him as Derek returned the modest kiss. It was a chaste press of lips, because Stiles was well aware of the judgmental audience they had, but it was perfect. The knot in his gut vanished and the anxiety he had been suffering from since getting on his plane became non-existent.

Pulling away from Derek, Stiles turned around, meeting Damon’s bored expression with a self-impressed one of his own.

“I got you your stupid milk.” Derek said behind him.

As if their body were too afraid to be away from each other, both Derek and Stiles made their way to the kitchen. Damon smirked and Derek tossed the paper bag when he was close enough, aiming at his brother’s face but Damon’s hands flashed up, halting the collision.

Stiles, unable to help himself, found himself analyzing the two men. With the differences staring him in the face, Stiles struggled to see how he could have mistaken Damon for Derek. Sure they appeared to be carbon-copies of one another but the hair was different, Derek was visibly taller and bulkier than Damon and, as he watched Derek walked over to Stiles’ side of the kitchen, he instantly noticed how different they carried themselves.

You could tell, from first glance, that Damon came from money. He wore his wealth in his set back shoulders, his bored and unimpressed expression, his salon-styled hair and his cocky, self-proclaimed superiority smirk.

Derek, on the _far_ other hand, looked like a man who knew what he wanted in life and who was comfortable with what he had. His calm expression matched his relaxed posture. The rugged appearance, thanks to the neatly trimmed stubble and casually spiked up hair, made him approachable and utterly breathe taking.

“My God, you can smell the horniness from you two.”

Whiskey eyes widened and Stiles straightened up when he saw Damon’s eyes boring into him. A body brushed against his, followed by an arm wounding around his waist.

“How many women are you currently sleeping with, DJ?” Derek asked, feigning interest.

The ‘asshole’ smirk made its appearance. “Too many to name.”

Stiles’ throat closed up and he forced himself not retch.

“You’re sick.” Derek commented, the distaste clear in his tone.

Damon shrugged. “You asked… speaking of, while you two were being all vomit inducing over there, I got a text from Samantha.”

“Who?” Derek asked, his fingers brushed absentmindedly over the curve of Stiles’ waist.

“My _company_ for tonight.” Damon Hale rolled his eyes and moved to snatch up the keys laying on the kitchen counter. Stiles watched as he twirled it around his index finger. “Also, Mom, Dad and Cora are coming over tomorrow, with Laura and maybe Isaac, so you two might wanna fuck and get it out of your system because they’re arriving at the ass crack of dawn.”

Stiles clenched his jaw, forcing his mouth shut.

Derek groaned. “Get out of my house, Damon.”

A deep chuckle left the other man as he pushed himself off the kitchen counter. Green-grey eyes fell on Stiles and Damon’s smirk turned less cocky and more genuine. “It was nice meeting you, Stiles. I wish I could stay longer and do the whole, getting to know my brother’s boyfriend but…” He shrugged. “Well you know.”

_No, I don’t._

Stiles nodded understandingly. “It’s cool. Enjoy your date.”

Damon tipped his invisible hat and spun around, his suit showcasing every shift of the muscle beneath. “Enjoy the sex!” He called over his shoulder as he reached for the front door.

A heavy weight fell on Stiles’ shoulder, soft hair tickling his neck.

Damon vanished and the front door was slammed shut. A groaning sob erupted from the man beside him. Licking his lips, Stiles felt the smile on his face grow wider, his cheek aching from the stretch and he loved it.

Carefully turning himself around, so not to shift Derek’s head off his shoulders, Stiles managed to position himself chest to chest with the grumble man, hand on the back of his head to keep Derek in place.

“I hate him.” Derek muttered mournfully but Stiles could hear the ‘brother’ tone in his voice. He used that same tone whenever he and Scott got into it. It was the ‘Fuck I want to hate you but I can’t completely’.

“I can see why.” He offered lightly.

Growling under his breath, Stiles felt a tug at his waist and he willingly stepped forward, slipping one leg between Derek’s to get as close as possible. Scrapping his nails against Derek’s sculpt Stiles turned, brushing his nose against Derek’s hairline.

“He’s such a fucking dick.” Derek complained. “And now, I have to be around him, just when I started getting along with Mom, Dad and my sisters.”

Joy filled Stiles. “You went to them?”

The weight on his shoulder lifted and a bright grin came into view. The corner of Derek’s eyes wrinkled and Stiles’ hand gravitated to that beaming face, cupping Derek’s jaw.

“Yeah,” Derek nodded. “I took your advice and flew out to New York where my family was spending Christmas at Cora’s. It was a little awkward at first but within minutes… it was like I never left.” The grin softened into a sweet smile.

Thumb brushing against skin, Stiles stroked Derek’s cheek fondly. “I’m happy for you, love.”

Soft lips touched his, lovingly moving to wrap around Stiles’ bottom lip. His eyes fluttered shut and he gently grasped the strands of hair behind Derek’s head, pulling him closer, nipping lightly on those soft pillows.

“God, I really did miss you.” Derek muttered, inching back only to peck Stiles’ lips a breath later.

Chuckling faintly, Stiles nodded. “Same here.”

Drawing back, the heat pressing against his chest vanished as Derek leaned away from him. “You’re okay with meeting my family, right?”

“Meeting...?” Stiles repeated cautiously. “Like you want me with you here?”

An adorable frown appeared on Derek’s face. “Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

A thousand things raced through Stiles mind. The idea of meeting Derek’s family had so many hidden means behind it. Meeting the folks was a big deal, everyone knew that and to have Derek sounding so sure in this decision, brought about this amazing feeling to implode within Stiles.

“You’re unbelievable.” Stiles blurted out but instant he saw the widening of Derek’s eyes, he immediately backtracked. “In a good way. A hella good way. I’m just—” He lifted a finger to point toward his head, “processing the knowledge that you want me to meet your family, as in we have reached the part in our relationship where I am going to be meeting the people you grew with.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “You offered to bring me back to Beacon Hills with you.”

“That was different!”

“How?” Stiles spluttered out, “you’ve met Scott and Allison already. And you’ve spoken with my dad on the phone. It’s not like you don’t know who they are. I, on the other hand, have no idea if you parents will even like me!”

Shaking his head fondly, Derek smiled. “Well Cora is bringing her boyfriend Isaac, so it’s not just family. And they’ll love you, Stiles. Heck, Damon likes you and Damon liked nobody but himself.”

Sighing, Stiles leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Derek’s. “I still can’t believe you have a twin brother.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Derek exhaled. “I just wanted to be Derek Hale for once and not Damon’s twin… speaking of, how did you know it wasn’t me?”

Stiles jerked back incredulously. “You kidding, right?” At Derek’s confused yet hopefully curious expression, Stiles rolled his eyes. “I will admit I thought he was you in the beginning, but with the idea that you were on your way to a funeral and then… I don’t know, I just felt off around him. ‘Sides, he lacked one of your best features.”

A coy grin formed on Derek’s lips. “My height?”

Snorting, Stiles replied. “Fuck, no. It’s those adorable bunny teeth!”

“Wow…” Derek deadpanned. “So if I hadn’t refused to wear braces, you’re have been all over him?” He joked but Stiles’ picked up the bitterness behind the tone.

He recalled his boyfriend’s question on how Stiles knew he wasn’t Damon and he couldn’t help but wonder if that had happened before. With Damon’s ‘perfect’ success a constant cloud which loomed over Derek’s head, Stiles hated the idea that their identical appearance might have brought Derek self-esteem issues further down.

“Baby,” Stiles sighed in exaggerated charm. “I am sorry to tell you this but your brother is a dick. Never mind that I knew he wasn’t you, I would never, _ever_ , consider dating him.” He faux-shuttered.

Laughing lowly, Derek with a smile still blooming on his lips pressed their mouths together and Stiles felt their lips touch briefly.

He now knew why Derek hated talking about Damon Hale. The term ‘Star Son’ made more sense, given the fact that Damon was Derek’s identical twin and flaunted his ‘better’ status around constant, Stiles understood why his boyfriend had wanted to be away from his family, to have a chance to be Derek Hale and _only_ Derek Hale.

With this knowledge came an overwhelming desire to prove to Derek that he was just Derek to Stiles and the man he was, was someone Stiles felt blessed to be with.

And he planned to show Derek just that, every single day.

“We should head to the bedroom,” Stiles muttered as Derek began placing tiny, sweet pecks against his lips, every one longer and lingering than the last. “Get it out of our system.” He joked.

“Don’t quote my brother, it’s a boner killer.”

Stiles grinned, his left hand leaving Derek’s jaw, trailing down his chest, lowering over his stomach. “Now we can’t have that.”

Derek cut off his bubbling laughter with a fierce kiss and just like that, everything and anything that wasn’t about the man pressed tightly against him vanished. All there was, was the heated stroke of Derek’s tongue slipping into his mouth and hand that grasped his ass cheek, pressing him closer to the hardening bulge rubbing against his own.

“God, I love you so much.” Derek groaned against his mouth.

Heat flooded him, a rush of emotions too intertwined to discern coursed through his body with a rapid turbulence. He found himself nodding, agreeing and returning those words. He tried to say it back, pulling away, opening his mouth but Derek jerked his head rapidly up and down before pulling Stiles back in.

Hands grasped and clung to clothes and bodies pulling and tugging with a touch of desperateness. Stiles’ brain felt woozy, his lungs squeezing, screaming for oxygen. With his hands moving to wrap around the side of Derek’s face, Stiles pulled back, their lips leaving with a wet pop.

Panting heavily, he licked his lips, opening his eyes to stare back at Derek. Stiles opened his mouth-

“I know.” Derek cut him off breathlessly.

Pausing, Stiles froze for a beat before shaking his head. “Did you just reverse Han Solo me?”

“Yeah.” A smug grin split across Derek’s face.

Dropping his hold from Derek’s jaw, Stiles grasped his wrists, pulling his hands away from Stiles’ waist. A cute frown furrowed Derek’s thick brows, as he eyed Stiles taking a step back. Pupil blown eyes flicked behind Stiles to the stairs he was currently shuffling back to and the grin transformed into a smirk.

“Do you have a Star Wars kink that I don’t know about?” Derek questioned, humor brightening his eyes. “I have a ‘hot boyfriend, whom _I love_ , quoting Star Wars’ kink.” He retorted, spinning around just into time to jog up the stairs, dragging Derek along by one wrist.

Their footsteps thundered against the wooden steps as they raced up to their bedroom. Stiles squawked as he tripped over the last step, only to exclaim when arms wrapped around him, lifting him up just in time, spinning him.

Stiles’ voice echoed through the loft, high and cautious, laughter bleeding through.

“Derek… Why are you--- Do not toss me on the---DEREK!”

A deep chuckle followed.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S: D.J is for Damon Jameson


End file.
